


Better Late Than Never

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Shopping, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 03:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Molly's bad day is looking up after Mycroft starts being chivalrous.





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



Molly grumbled to herself as she left the store, the third one she’d tried that day. _I got the jumper for John, the whiskey for Greg, and the brooch for Mrs. Hudson but everyone’s sold out of the toy Rosie wants and I still have no idea what to get Sherlock. God, I hate shopping this time of year._ Her foot still hurt from when another shopper accidentally stepped on it, the shopping bags were getting awkward to hold, and it was starting to pour.

She looked up at the unforgiving sky, her hands too full for her to get out her umbrella. “Seriously?”

There were no cabs to be found, of course. Molly walked a block before a passing car splashed her with icy water. Now she was wet, shivering, and in an even worse mood.

Another car approached her from behind and she tensed, expecting another splashing, but then it slowed to a stop beside her. It was a black sedan with tinted windows and she knew exactly who it belonged to. She had half a mind to just keep walking and was about to do that when the driver quickly got out, took the bags from her and stored them in the boot, then opened the door for her.

“Get in,” Mycroft insisted.

Rolling her eyes, Molly obeyed. “It’s not like you’re leaving me much choice.”

Mycroft gave the driver her home address as soon as he was behind the wheel and they pulled into traffic.

“You don’t have to do this, Mycroft,” she protested. They were more than acquaintances since they had both helped Sherlock fake his death, but less than friends.

“Keeping an eye on my brother includes keeping an eye on his … friends. I was in the neighborhood, you obviously needed assistance, think nothing of it.”

Despite everything, Molly relaxed against the well-upholstered seat. Smiling a bit, she asked, “Were you about to call me a goldfish?”

Mycroft ignored her question when he saw she was still cold. He had the driver turn up the heat then he picked up his coat from where it lay on the seat between them and draped it over her. “There. We can’t have you catching pneumonia.”

“Um, thank you.” The coat smelled like him – citrus, sandalwood, musk, and a hint of vanilla. She found the combination intriguing, not unlike the man himself. _Still, he’s awfully high-handed._

A voice that sounded a lot like her dear, departed friend Mary said, _Maybe you could help him with that._

Molly looked over at Mycroft, who was busy with his mobile. She got the distinct impression that he was avoiding her.

Just as the car pulled up in front of her building, his mobile chirped. Mycroft read the text then looked up at her, confused.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She removed his coat and put it back on the seat between them.

“When did you and Sherlock break up?”

Molly stared at him, just as confused. “What? Sherlock and I never broke up since we never dated.”

“That can’t be right,” Mycroft muttered, mostly to himself. “You’re at each other’s flats almost daily. He thinks the world of you and your good opinion. He-”

“Sherlock and I are just friends,” she said firmly. “Close friends, yes, but nothing more than that.” She started to get out of the car but Mycroft grabbed her hand, stilling her. His touch sent shivers up and down her spine and she wasn’t sure what to think about that.

“Will you allow me to escort you to your door?” Mycroft asked. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed nervous.

_What’s he after?_ “Um, yeah, if you want.”

By the time she let him into her flat, Molly was wondering if she had entered an alternate dimension. _That would certainly explain why he thought Sherlock and I were dating, and why he’s being so courteous now._

Mycroft set her shopping bags on her kitchen island then turned to her. “Are you certain you’ll be alright?”

“You mean the soaking? Yeah, I’ll take a hot shower and put on my warmest jammies, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and was about to leave then he hesitated. “Women are always attracted to my brother,” he said by way of explanation. “You yourself were-”

“Yeah, years ago,” she cut in. “I got over that. We’re just friends now.”

“You’re not seeing anyone? I want to be certain I haven’t missed anything else.”

He was so earnest that she had to smile. “No, Mycroft, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“I see.” He looked like he wanted to say something then he changed his mind. “Have a pleasant evening, Molly.”

She smiled a bit. “You could be part of it, you know.”

He did a masterful job of covering up his surprise, but Molly still caught it. “I … er … have to be at Downing Street first thing in the morning.”

“Then I won’t keep you all night, just part of it. After my shower, I was thinking of making lasagna.”

Mycroft chuckled, relaxing. “Did Sherlock tell you that’s a particular favorite of mine?”

Molly grinned. “I never reveal my sources. So, are you staying?”

He nodded. “Just let me dismiss the driver.”

For the record, Mycroft was fifteen minutes late for his meeting with the Prime Minister the next morning. He blamed it on the traffic instead of his new girlfriend.


End file.
